Mullah Nasrudin supervised the building of his own tomb.At last, after one shortcoming after another had been righted, the mason came for his money."It is not yet right, builder."Whatever more can be done with it?""We still have to supply the body."

This is my last post in A Year of Stories. It has been a labor of love, and I am grateful to you for coming along on the journey.

Tomorrow, Monday, June 22, is Tammuz 5, and marks Reb Zalman's 1st Yahrtzeit. Below you will find links to some of the amazing stories about both his preparation for death and the day of burial. The Nasrudin story makes more sense within the context of his preparation.Here is a story of R Zalman preparing for his own death. You can hear an interview with R' Zalman about his mindful preparation for death here.

Yesterday, my holy gathering, Minyan Oneg Shabbat, dedicated our Shabbat morning to R' Zalman's teachings. We read and discussed some gems that I had collected, many of them from R' Rachel Barenblat's blog The Velveteen Rabbi.

Yitgadal, v'yitkadash, shmai rabah...

Blessings to you all,R' Mark

(If you have not already begun to do so, it is time to begin citing R' Zalman as we do all the sages)

Reb Zalman teaches:

Sometimes I talk with people and ask, "Who are you?" And they tell me their name. And I say, "Thank you, but who are you?" And they tell me they're the parent of, the child of. And I say, "Thank you, but who are you?" And they tell me about the work they do. And I say, "Thank you, but who are you?" And so on, until the only answer we can give is, "I am God." My bubbe [grandmother] exemplified the priesthood of the kitchen. We all wish sometimes for that simple piety.Look at the face of someone praying and you have an idea of what their God is like.Just as we have physical DNA, so we also have spiritual DNA operating in us. We can't drive solely with the rearview mirror...but we can't drive without it, either.Nefesh, Ruach, Neshama, Chaya, Yechida [levels of soul as understood by the Jewish mystical tradition]: these are vast parts of ourselves we aren't aware of. When we shed our bodies of flesh, we still have bodies of energy.Once I davvened in a synagogue in India. In the Hindi siddur [prayerbook] the word "Adonai" [Lord] was translated as "Rameshvar," rama eshvara, my chosen deity. Some people choose Ganesh, and some people choose Kali, and some people choose Adonai!We give each other permission to fully celebrate the Divine in our own way ("you show me yours, I'll show you mine"!) We need a dialogue of devoutness between peoples, not a dialogue of theology which leads to argument.One of my favorite bumper stickers reads, "Don't believe everything you think."I'm interested not only in solo contemplative practice, but in "socialized meditation!"The hadith, revelation to Mohammed, tells us, "God is closer to you than the vein on your neck."If I could hear all of the vibrations in this room -- cell phones, broadband, wifi, radio waves, microwaves -- I'd hear a jumble. If I can tune in to a particular frequency, I might hear something I could understand. God broadcasts on all frequencies; we need to adjust our radios to attune to God.

Philosophers don't dig it because they want a single definition, an object. I'm talking about God as a verb. People who have triumphalist notions that God only speaks to the Jews are not correct. Different people attune to different frequencies; God speaks on all frequencies; we receive based on where we're open.In Aramaic, the word for window is kavan, related to the term kavvanah [focus or intent, esp. in prayer]. In davvening, we need to open a window.When we first saw earth from space, there was a paradigm shift. We can conceive of earth as a single being now. Earth is a being who maybe has emphysema now, has blood poisoning. And people who care only for themselves and their own expansion are like cancer cells. But every religion is a vital organ of the planet: all are needed, all are interdependent.So then people ask, "If you're so universal, why be Jewish?" And my answer is, because the Jewish organ needs to be healthy, and if we're truly who we are, that helps the other organs be who they are.We have a responsibility to tune in. Be clear what you are doing. What screen name do I want, to log in to God?The person who leads prayer has to check out what the people can handle, and enter into it with them. In unfamiliar worship contexts, I pause and ask myself, "How can I serve God in this place and this way with these people?"Find your ideal of God that you can be vulnerable to. For me, it's Ribbono shel Olam [master of the world]; for you it might be God as therapist, God as guru, as rebbe.Even the four worlds teaching is only a mental scaffold.Torah isn't just information; we don't just read it for the literal meaning of the text. Imagine if Eve said to me, "Zalman, I love you," and I replied, "Yah, you told me that last week, I know already!" It's not about the information.

Thanks to philosophy and advanced study, we can come to understand the enormity of God, of the ein-sof ["without-end," a mystical understanding of God]. The problem is, God becomes a little too big. What are we that this enormous and infinite God should find us significant? But this is a heresy greater than that of thinking God is small. To God a galaxy, a human life: each has significance. I am not an "oops" of God!I'm a spiritual Peeping Tom. I want to see how people get it on with God. It's all real, in every religion; that's what escaped us in Hebrew school.Concepts are objective. They're the means with which I think. But God is not a concept. God is in the nominative: not existence, but pure being.Many religions have good ways of connecting with God. I'm a gonif ["thief"]: I steal them. And usually it turns out we had them already! What Judaism has which is unique is the idea of covenant...The Torah tells us we are children of (we share DNA with!) God. But the covenant is two-sided: anu amecha, v'atah malkeinu. ["We are your people, and You are our ruler"]. This is our root metaphor, deeper than our way of thinking. It's a relationship with God.How often we davven words, discuss theology, without addressing God. It's almost an insult, to talk about God as though God weren't right here! We need to relate to God in the second person, I-Thou.The Zionist dream is shattered. It doesn't energize us as it once did. The American dream, too, is shattered; the 4th of July used to be such an important yontif [holy day] for me! What will fill these gaps?When we are infants, all our needs are filled by nursing. As adults there's a temptation to go to the refrigerator to fill all of our needs, but it won't work; it can only feed physical hunger. We feel scarcity on this plane, in assiyah, because we don't know the other planes exist. We need to learn the discipline of asking, "In what plane am I hungry?" Food will feed assiyah hunger, but yetzirah hunger is for love. Beriyah hunger needs great thoughts in order to be sated. And atzilut hunger requires us to go inside, to reach for God.To connect with God, to log on to God, we need only awareness, because God is there all the time, making your heart beat.The mystics talk about bittul ha-yesh, destroying "thingness," ego. But I don't want to destroy my ego! It's a good manager, though a lousy boss. My goal instead is to make the ego more translucent, more transparent. To remove opacity so divine light can shine. The ego says, "it's all me." But we need to own that everything in us is God. Some days I wake up and think, "Oy, God, you decided to be Zalman again today?"The tradition teaches that the Shekhinah [feminine, immanent divine presence] is there whenever a minyan prays together; when one prays alone, angels carry one's words to God, and since angels traditionally were understood to speak only Hebrew, that's why prayer was supposed to be in Hebrew. For me: I want to davven in Hebrew on Shabbos because it connects us all around the world and throughout time. But during the week when I davven alone, I often want to pray in English because that way I can pour out my heart to the Presence that hears me.The Jewish holiday cycle mirrors the cycle of a life. We begin with Chanukah, as light grows in darkness. Then comes Tu B'Shvat, things begin to vernalize, juice begins to flow. Then Purim, adolescence. Then Pesach, we're emancipated, like turning 21! By midlife we have a mature connection with God and receive revelation, and this is Shavuot. Then comes the midlife crisis: Tisha b'Av, the destruction of the Temple. Then the shofar blows, retirement comes, it's time for teshuvah(inner work/turning towards God), Rosh Hashanah. Then Yom Kippur, in which we realize that some things are only reparable if we meet God in atzilut to wipe the slate clean. Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah are full of zaide-energy. Sukkot is retirement age, we move out of our homes and into little dwellings. And then comes Chanukah again, and that's the end."Once upon a time," Eliade's "in illo tempore": we begin stories by hearkening back to holy time, elastic time, time before time.If we can't remember the revelation at Sinai, we need to recreate the memory. It's like experiential karaoke! The tradition is the music, and we reenact and recreate the words of the song.On Rosh Hashanah we install a new Godfield, because the old one has been clogged over the course of the last year.God is scattered in our lives. But imagine if we came together to invest our mitzvot, our spirit, our bit of God in a kind of credit union in which we each had a share. We each make deposits, of prayer and energy; we pool our energy; and then we're connected and can draw from the pool too. And it grows with every generation. And we're all shareholders, stakeholders, in it. How many of us own shares in the future of Judaism?Once we offered sacrifices, sheep. Then we offered words to mimic the sacrifices. Now we offer time and attention to God.One of the greatest pains in old age is unlived life. Get a sense of your story, your trajectory, to plan where you want your life to be.Once I prayed, "God, inscribe me in the book of Life!" And God said, "Don't be a fool! Write your own page."Deep ecumenicism: really squaring ourselves with the ideas of a post-triumphalist period, with the idea that God speaks more languages than we.When you run out of old stories, invent new ones. I told one to my children once about the Baal Shem Tov [early Hasidic master, lit. "Master of the Great Name"] of the future, on the Enterprise. A call came in from a planet needing help: a planet of creatures with two heads, who wanted to know how many are required for a minyan! So he goes to talk with them, learns who they are, discovers that in almost every case one head is a Hasid and one is a mitnagid! [A rationalist, opposing the mysticism of Hasidism.] So he decides, for a minyan you count ten heads and not ten penises...which also means you count women, too.Activate the imagination to give meaning to your life, to help you repair your dreams and darn the holes in the world.This is nothing new. I'm just here to remind you of what you already know. Learning it once isn't enough.We are dreaming the dream of Judaism into the future.

There are many versions of this well known story. This one can be found in Dov Noy's (z"l) book Folktales of Israel, Pg 94-96. The story has a basis in history, although the historical event(s) upon which it is based - the disputation - were not laughing matters.We are all indebted to Dov Noy for his work in preserving our rich oral heritage. He established the Israeli Folktale Archives to record oral tales from people who came to Israel from many countries.

This story is the penultimate one in my project,A Year of Stories. Thanks so much for coming along for the ride. I am blessed to have received so many positive responses, and my hope is that you put these stories to good use. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation of any amount in honor of this project. Thank you...and may you go from story to story!R' Mark

Once there was a wicked priest who hated Jews. One day he summoned the chief rabbi and said to him, "I want to have a dispute with a Jew in the language of signs. I give you thirty days to prepare yourself, and if nobody appears to take part in the dispute, I shall order that all the Jews be killed."

What was the rabbi to do? He brought the bad tidings to his people and ordered them to fast and to pray in the synagogue. A week went by, two weeks, three weeks passed, but there was no one witht he courage to accept the priest's challenge, and the great responsibility. It was already the fourth week, and still there was no one to represent the Jews in the dispute.

Then along came a poultry dealer who had been away, bringing chickenss fron the nearby villages intot he town. He had not heard what was going in there, but he noticed on his arrival that the market was closed, and at home he found his wife and children fasting, praying, and weeping.

"What is the matter?" asked the poultry dealer. His wife replied, "The wicked priest has ordered a Jew to hold a discussion with him in the language of signs. if there is no one who is able to do so, all of us will be killed."

"Is that all the matter?" wondered the poultry dealer in surprise. "We'll go to the rabbi and tell him that I am ready to participate."

"What are you talking about? How can you understand the priest? Greater and wiser men than you have not been willing to take upon themselves this task!" cried his wife.

"Why should you worry? In any case we shall all be killed." And off they went together to the rabbi.

"Rabbi," said the man, "I am ready to meet the priest!"

The rabbi blessed him. "May G!d help you and bring you success."

So the priest was told that a Jew, sent by the rabbi, would hold a discussion with him in sign language.

"You have to understand my signs and to answer them in the same way," explained the priest to the Jew before a great assembly. Then he pointed a finger to him. In reply the Jew pointed two fingers. Then the priest took a piece of white cheese from his pocket. In reply the Jew took out an egg. Then the priest took the seeds of some grain and scattered them on the floor. In reply, the Jew set a hen free from the coop and let it eat up the seeds.

"Well done," exclaimed the priest in amazement. "You answered my questions correctly." And he gave the poultry dealer many gifts and ordered his servant to bathe him and to give him fine garments to wear.

"Now I know that the Jews are wise man, if the most humble among them was able to understand me," admitted the priest.

The town was in great excitement, and the people waited in suspense for the result of the dispute. When they saw the poultry dealer leaving the priest's house in fine garments and with a happy expression on his face, they understood that everything was in order, blessed be the Almighty.

"How did it go? What did the priest ask you?" all the people wanted to know. The rabbi called the poultry dealer to his home and asked him to relate what had happened.

And this is what the poultry dealer related: "The priest pointed with one finger to my eyes, meaning to take out my eye. I pointed with two fingers to imply, I would take out bioth his eyes. Then he took out a piece f cheese to show that I was hungry while he had cheese. So I took out an egg to show that i was not in need of his alms. The he spilled some wheat grain on the floor. So I fed the hen, knowing it was hungry and thinking what a pity to watse the grain."

At the same time the priests's family questioned him. "What did you ask the Jew? What did he reply?"

The priest related: "At first I pointed one finger, meaning that there is only one king. he pointed with two fingers, meaning there are two kings, the king in heaven and the king on earth. Then I took out a piece of cheese, meaning, Is this the cheese from a white or a black goat? In answer he took out an egg, meaning, Is this egg from a white or a brown hen? Finally I scattered some grain on the floor, meaning that the Jews are spread all over the world. Whereupon he freed his hen which ate up all the grain, meaning that the Messiah will come and gather all the Jews from the four corners of the world."

One of the first teachings that I heard from Reb Zalman, tz"l, was his practice of asking G!d each morning what was his deployment for that day. More specifically, he would ask G!d, "How do you want to Zalman me today?"

Sometimes it takes a prayer to remember who we are, andwhat our sacred deployment is - sometimes a song or a poem or a story, or a child, or simply sitting in silence.

Whatever it takes,

Shavua Tov

In Ropchitz, the town where Rabbi Naftali lived, it was the custom for the rich people whose house stood isolated or at the far end of the town to hire men to watch over their property by night. Late one evening when Rabbi Naftali was skirting the woods which circled the city, he met such a watchman walking up and down.

"For whom are you working?" he asked. The man told him and then inquired in his turn" And for whom are you working, Rabbi?"

The words struck the tzaddik like a shaft.

"I am not working for anybody just yet," he barely managed to say. Then he walked up and down beside the man for a long time.

"Will you be my servant?" he finally asked.

"I should like to," the man replied, "but what would be my duties?"

"To remind me of the One to who I am of service ."

************************************************************************* Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to in honor of this project and to support DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

Oftentimes, an audience member will come up to either me or Renée after a performance and ask, "Is that a true story?"Our answer will usually sound something like,"I don't know if the events actually happened, but it is a true story."This story is a good example of such a story.

At the edge of town there is an abandoned synagogue that people call the weeping synagogue. Birds nest there. Squirrels come and play there. But no one prays there. Many of the local Jews believe that it is haunted. They abandoned it, moved the Holy Torah scrolls, turned off the Eternal Light, and built a brand-new synagogue on the other side of town. This is the story the oldest members of the community tell about it.

Once, long ago, we had a rabbi who was a scholar. He taught brilliant classes and gave astounding sermons. Late at night he could often be found alone in the synagogue, the old synagogue, studying the holy books. He would study late into the night, early into the next morning.

One night, when the rabbi was the last person awake in the whole town, a voice spoke to him from inside the Holy Ark.

"Make a wish. Heaven has seen how good and how holy you are, so make a wish.:"

The rabbi thought and thought, then said,

"I have nothing for which to wish. I have health and family. I have enough to eat and wear, enough things, enough of a place to live. I am happy with my work. I am happy with my portion in life."

At that moment the ark began to cry. A huge sobbing started. Then the voice began to speak again,

"You could have done so much. You could have brought peace or ended hunger. Human suffering could have ended, but you thought of wishes as only for you." The crying continued.

In the morning they found the rabbi collapsed on the floor. They woke him, took him home, washed his forehead, and fed him soup. By evening he was gone. He said nothing to anyone. But the crying started that day. From then on the synagogue felt like a sad place. At night, when the wind blew, it became a sobbing voice that seemed to come from the ark. Anyone who was in the synagogue heard the ark cry, "If only...If only..."

It became too much for the community. They built a new synagogue and started over.

This story can be found in Stories We Pray, by Joel Lurie Grishaver, Pg 212-213. I highly recommend this book. In his foreword Mr. Grishaver says, "I began collecting stories because Shlomo Carlebach told stories." That's good enough for me.

Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

*************************************************After many years of great poverty that had never shaken his faith in G!d, Rabbi Eizik dreamed that someone told him to look for a treasure in Prague, under the bridge that leads to the king's palace.

When the dream occurred a third time, Rabbi Eizik set out for Prague. But the bridge was guarded day and night and he did not dare start digging Nevertheless, he went to the bridge every morning and kept walking around it until evening.

Finally the guard, who had been watching him, asked in a kindly way whether he was looking for something or waiting for somebody. Rabbi Eizik told him if the dream that had brought him here from a faraway country.

The guard laughed: "And so because of a dream, you wore out your shoes to come here! As for having faith in dreams, if I had had it, I once had a dream that told me to go to Cracow and dig for treasure under the stove in the room of a Jew - Eizik, son of Yekel, that was the name! Eizik, son of Yekel! I can just imagine what it would be like, how I should have to try every house over there, where one half of the Jews are named Eizik and the other Yekel!"

As he laughed again. Rabbi Eizik excused himself, traveled home, dug up the treasure from under his own stove, and used the treasure to build the House of Prayer that is called "Reb Eizik Reb Yekel's Shul."

"Take this story to heart," added Buber, and make what it says your own. "There is something you cannot find out there in the world... there is a place within yourself where you can find it."

Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

I have to admit to feeling a touch of melancholy about the approaching end to this project. Truly Reb Zalman has been with me with each new post. What better way to hold onto that for a tad longer with, what else, a story about stories.

Once some disciples of the Baal Shem Tov approached him and asked: "Why do you answer all questions by telling a story? Why do you always tell stories?"

The disciples then steeled themselves, certain that, true to the tradition, the Baal Shem Tov would necessarily answer such questions about a story with a story.

But the Baal Shem Tov, after a loving, lingering pause, responded, "Salvation lies in remembrance."

Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to in honor of this project and to support DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

Reb Zalman's yahrzteit is 3 weeks from today, 5 Tammuz, June 22. 3 weeks, 6 more stories - Do you have one you'd like to share? This is a Sufi story, from Tales of the Dervishes, collected by Idries Shah.

Once upon a time Khidr, the Teacher of Moses, called upon mankind with a warning. At a certain date, he said, all the water in the world which had not been specifically hoarded, would disappear. It would then be renewed, with different water, which would drive men mad.

Only one man listened to the meaning of this advice. He collected water and went to a secure place where he stored it, and waited for the water to change its character.

On the appointed date the streams stopped running, the wells went dry, and the man who had listened, seeing this happening, went to his retreat and drank his preserved water.

When he saw, from his security, the waterfalls again beginning to flow, this man descended among the other sons of men. He found that they were thinking and talking in an entirely different way from before; yet they had no memory of what happened, not of having been warned. When he tried to talk to them, he realized that they thought that he was mad, and they showed hostility or compassion, not understanding.

At first he drank none of the new water, but went back to his concealment, to draw on his supplies, eery day. Finally, however, he took the decision to drink the new water because he could not bear the loneliness of living, behaving, and thinking in as different way from everyone else. He drank the new water, and became like the rest. Then he forgot all about his own store of special water, and his fellows began to look upon him as a madman who had miraculously been restored to sanity.

I am considering taking on anther project, also in honor of Reb Zalman, tz"l, that will need your input. A Year of Song would consist of niggunim, wordless melodies, with both music file and sheet music. Included might be suggestions for text(s) that you have used with the melody. I am leaning towards established niggunim, in contrast to original melodies. If you would like to participate, please let me know, at RebMarko@gmail.com.

This being Wednesday, seems like the perfect time to post this well known story.

Week after week, from one Shabbat to another, and especially when they would eat their Shabbat meal together with their Hasidi - when they would speak words of Torah, Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusya, two Hasidic Rebbes, two Hasidic masters, were overcome by a feeling of holiness. Once when they were in private together, Rabbi Elimelech said to Rabbi Zusya,

“Brother, I am sometimes afraid that my feeling of holiness on the Sabbath may not be a true feeling, and if so, my service to G!d may mot be the right kind of service.” Rabbi Zusya said, “Brother, I too am afraid of the very same thing.” “What should we do about?,” asked Elimelech. And Zusya replied, “Let each of us on a weekday, prepare a meal which is exactly like the Sabbath meal. Let us then invite our Hasidim to join us, and let us teach the kinds of words of Torah that we ordinarily do. And then if it happens on that day, in midweek, that we still have the same feeling of holiness, we will know that our way is not the true way. But if we do not feel anything special, it will prove that our Saturday way is correct.” Well, they did exactly what they said. They prepared the Sabbath meal. They put on their Shabbas clothes. They put on the streimels that they would only wear on Shabbas. They ate with the Hasidim; they spoke words of Torah; and sure enough, the feeling of holiness overcame them, just as it did on Shabbas.. And so when they were alone together, Rabbi Elimelech said, “Brother, what should we do?” They were in a state of deep emotional and spiritual crisis. So he said, “Let us go to the great Rabbi of Mezhirech; let us ask him.” So they did. They spoke to the Maggid of Mezhirech. They told him their dilemma, and he said to them, “If you put on Sabbath clothes and Sabbath hats, and speak words of Torah and share a meal and song with your Hasidim, it is quite right that you had a feeling of Sabbath holiness. Because all of those things together have the power of drawing the light of Shabbat holiness, down to earth. You need have no fears.”***************************************************************************Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

This story appears in Rabbi Shefa Gold's Torah Journeys. It is even more powerful for me in these last days before Shavuot.See you at Sinai.Again.חג שמח

There is a story about some jealous angels who are asked to hide the spark of the Divine in the world.

"Let's put it atop the highest mountain," offers one.

"No," says another," the Human is very ambitious. He will find it there."

"Well then, let's bury it beneath the deepest sea."

"That won't work either," another chimes in. "The Human is very resourceful. She will even find it there."

After a moment's thought the wisest angel says, "I know. Put it inside the Human heart. They will never look there."

***************************************************************************Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

One of the first stories I ever heard R' Zalman tell was this one, about his initial meeting with Howard Thurman. Sara Davidson captures it beautifully in her book, The December Project.Sections of the following are also taken from Reb Zalman's First Steps to a New Jewish Spirit.I wish you Shabbat Shalom and a meaningful encounter at Sinai. See you there.Again.

**************************

As a young rabbi in New Bedford, Massachusetts, in 1955, Zalman used to rise at four in the morning to drive to Boston, where he was taking graduate classes on psychology and pastoral couseling. Arriving at Boston University at seven, he needed to davven, but Hillel House was closed. Most buildings on campus were shut except for March Chapel, so he wandered through it, looking for a place to conduct his morning prayers. In one room he found a statue of Jesus, in another a large brass cross on the altar. At length he found a supply room that had no Christian symbols and did his davening there. A tall black man - Zalman assumed he was the janitor - saw him one morning and asked, "Is there a reason you don't pray in the chapel?" Zalman said it was because of the Christian symbols. "In my guts and heart, it doesn't feel right." "Why don't you look tomorrow morning and see if you'd like to say your prayers there?" the man said. Curious, Zalman entered the chapel the next morning and found the brass cross had been taken off the altar and placed in a corner. He went to the lectern and saw the Bible open to Psalm 139, containing the words:Whither shall I flee from thy presence?If I ascend to heaven, thou art there... Of course, Zalman thought. When he finished davening, he turned the Bible to Psalm 100, a prayer of thanksgiving, then left the chapel and went to his class. In the days that followed, "this man and I were sending messages to each other through the Bible, and I still didn't know who he was," Zalman told me. In the spring, he wanted to take a course listed as "Spiritual Disciplines and resources, with Labs." Labs? What would that be? He requested an appointment with the professor "to see if he was going to try to make a Christian out of me. If he was, I didn't want to take the course." When Zalman walked into the professor's office, he saw the black man he'd assumed was a janitor. It was Howard Thurman, dean of Marsh Chapel, a legendary ecumenical leader who later would be a mentor to Martin Luther King Jr. Thurman offered Zalman a mug of coffee, and Zalman explained his concerns. "I want to take your course, but I don't know if my spiritual anchors are long enough." He put his coffee mug on his desk and began to look at his hands. He turned them palms up, then palms down. The backs of his hands were very dark, and his palms were very light. He turned them back and forth, looking at them, as if considering the light and dark sides of the argument. This lasted for several minutes, but it felt like hours to me. He did what he was doing with such a calm certainty that he seemed to possess great power. Suddenly he spoke, "Don't you trust the Ruach HaKodesh?" I was stunned. He'd used the Hebrew words for the Spirit of Holiness, something I had not expected from a gentile. And in so doing, he brought the question home to me in a particularly strong way. I began to tremble and walked out of his office without answering him. For the next three weeks I went through torment struggling with the question. Did I indeed trust the Ruach haKodesh, trust It enough to have faith in my self-identity as a Jew? Or was I holding back, fearful of testing my belief in an encounter with another religion, unnerved by the prospect of trusting my soul to a non-Jew? If I was fearful, it meant I did not truly believe. Finally I realized that his question could have only one answer. "Don't you trust the Ruach haKodesh?" Dean Thurman had said. I had to say "Yes, I do," and I signed up for his course. .....in the exchanges with Dean Thurman I learned an important lesson, which is still at the center of my thinking: Judaism and all the other Western religions are suffering from having become oververbalized and underexperienced. Someone else's description of ecstasy is not enough. I wanted to have the experience myself, and I'd like to help make it possible for other people to have it too.

******************Thank you Reb Zalman - you accomplished your task.Have you enjoyed reading my posts? Only a few left to go before R' Zalman's first yahrtzeit. Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you,R' Mark

R' David Zaslow told this story during the R' Zalman Legacy Shabbaton in Ashland, OR two weeks ago.

Priceless.

R' David: True story – Boulder, 2000. At a Friday morning service in Boulder, CO. Rabbi Twersky from Denver and his team were leading davvenen getting ready for a shabbaton they were leading that weekend. Reb Twersky and Rabbi Zalman were standing at the window and chatting during the early part of the davvenen. They were chatting and pointing outside while watching a gardener trim the overgrown hedges. Reb Zalman comes back to me and says, “Duvid Leibyn, do you want to know what we said to each other.” I replied, “Yes, of course!”

Reb Twersky: Zalman, do you see those hedges after they have been trimmed? They look very bad, don’t they? That's what happens when you trim too much.Reb Zalman: Sure, for a while they won’t look so great, but do you see the hedges that haven’t been trimmed?Reb Twersky: Yes, I see them.Reb Zalman: Well, do you know what happens when they don’t get trimmed? They get so overgrown they choke themselves, and they won’t live much longer.Rabbi Twersky looked over at Reb Zalman telling me the story. He smiled at me from across the room, shaking his head, and shrugging his shoulders as if to say, “Reb Zalman’s got a point!”

******************Have you enjoyed reading the stories? Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you.

Mulla Nasrudin was resting under the shade of a tall and luscious walnut tree. As he sat daydreaming, he noticed huge pumpkins growing on delicate vines snaking across the ground. Then he looked up and squinted to see the tiny walnuts growing on the magnificent tree. “How strange mother nature is,” he thought, “to make plump pumpkins grow on spindly vines while little walnuts have their own impressive tree.”Just then, a walnut fell from above and landed with a ‘tock’ on Mullah Nasruddin’s head. The mullah rubbed his sore head, picked up the fallen walnut, and looked high up towards the branches of the tree. Then, he looked over thankfully at the swollen pumpkins growing safely on the ground.“Oh mother nature, you are wise!”

******************

As soon as he had intoned the Call to Prayer from his minaret, the Mulla was seen rushing away from the mosque.Someone shouted: "Where are you going, Nasrudin?"The Mulla yelled back: "That was the most penetrating call I have ever given. I'm going as far as I can to see at what distance it can be heard."

Renée and I head to Portland, Oregon this Thursday for a Scholar in Residence Shabbaton at P'nai Or. Then we'll be in Eugene on Wednesday night at Temple Beth Israel for a concert. Our trip ends at Ashland's Havurah Shir Hadash for a Thursday night concert and Sunday Master Storytelling Workshop, all part of the Reb Zalman Legacy Shabbaton. Whew!

This post is from a talk that was given in memory of Reb Shlomo Carlebach, tz"l that R' Zalman tz"l presented at the 92nd Street Y in New York City. I have not edited it in order to preserve the R' Zalman's unique way of telling. His voice shines through, yes?

Once there was a woman who was very poor. Her husband died and she didn't have any children. Oy! She wanted to say kaddish. It was before egalitarianism, so she couldn't go to say Kaddish in shul. She took in an extra load of laundry, and would do that work and take that money to the shammes, and ask the shammes to say a kaddish, and somehow she felt that this was right.

After a while she felt that there must be so many people who no one says kaddish for, so she worked still harder and got together another couple of coins and said to the shammes, "Will you say another kaddish for someone who has no one to say kaddish for him?" He agreed. One day she had to pay the rent, and she didn't have money, and she was really in tsores.

She's walking down the road a little bit, and she's saying, "Dear G!d, I could use some help," when a carriage comes by and a man, well dressed, noble looking, invites her to sit in the carriage, and says, "Why are you so troubles? What's going on?" She tells him of her tsores, trouble, her travail, and he takes out a wechsel - a check, a note to the banker, saying, "Pay this woman ten thousand rubles." She didn't need that much, but she took the note and went to the bank and presented it to the teller. The teller says, "It's a big note, something I can't handle. I have to go to a higher up." He sees the note, and he too says, "No, the president of the bank has to handle that: we cant' handle it."

They usher this woman to the president of the bank, and he says, "Where did you get tis note?" She looks around the room, and there were pictures, portraits of people and she points to one portrait and says, "This man - this is the man that gave me the note." The banker nearly faints. It's been eight years since his father, whose picture was there, has died, and he hasn't said kaddish for his father. This woman, who had hired, with her hard work, someone to say kaddish for someone who needed the kaddish, helped that banker, and so she got helped in return.

*******R' Zalman preceded his telling of the story with this:Reb Shlomo - what a storyteller! The way a thing came alive before our heart's eyes! He took us into virtuous reality, moving us into a place in which we felt that the ideal, the virtue, was more real than what we see with out eyes.He was a creative artist of story telling. He read the same stories as I did, but he told them as if he had seen it all happen, and yes, in his imagination he did wee it happen in a most vital and exciting way.Telling stories is a spiritual art form. The Ba'al Shem Tov said that Judaism is not a burden, it's a way to pamper your soul. Singing niggunim and telling stories were ways in which people did that. A rough table, a glazele with schnapps, people singing a melody. Outside it's cold and the wind is blowing, but a big pot belied stove is making it warm, and they're hanging out there: and they shmooze. "I want to tell you a story from my Rebbe!" - they would do a "Can you top this?" Have you ever seen a Tzaddik like he was?*******From Kol Chevre, 14th Yahrtzeit Issue, Pg 68-69. Does anyone know if this is still published or if copies of any of the published issues are available for purchase?*******Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you.

Renée and I are honored to be part of the Reb Zalman Legacy Shabbaton April 24-26 in Ashland, Oregon. Seems like a good moment to share a story of two Rebbes and close friends whose lives and teachings continue to inspire so many of us.

Chag Sameach,

R' Mark

Shlomo Carlebach and Zalman Schacter, young rabbis in their mid 20s, are standing in a narrow, dimly lit hallway on the second floor of 770 Eastern Parkway, the three-story headquarters of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, waiting nervously, with their eyes fixed on the door in front of them. Even the fact that they are here together is a miracle in itself, a blessing from God. They had first met in Baden bei Wien, before the Nazis had taken over, when Zalman, then 11 years old, showed up on the Carlebach's doorstep, holding a dead chicken. Zalman's father had sent him to ask Rabbi Carlebach is it was kosher. Rabbi Carlebach examined the chicken and declared it kosher. Then he introduced Zalman to his sons, Eliyah Hayyim and Shlomo, who were 10 years old. The three boys ran off to play ping pong. Zalman's own family was not able to leave Austria by train as the Carlebach's had; but with the help of smugglers, the Schacters escaped on foot across the German border into Antwerp, Belgium. From there, they fled to France and would up in an internment camp for Jewish refugees, before eventually being released to travel to Marseilles. There, Zalman met a charismatic rabbi with whom he was very taken. After his family finally arrived in New York in 1941, Zalman learned that this rabbi was Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the son-in-law of the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, head of the great Hasidic dynasty. The Rebbe had also escaped from Europe and arrived in New York just a year before Zalman, setting up his home and headquarters in Brooklyn. Zalman soon became a Hasid of the Rebbe, and when Zalman and Shlomo found each other again in New York, Zalman learned that Shlomo and his brother Eliya Hayyim had already been to see the Rebbe. At first Shlomo was hesitant about becoming a Hasid. He was already studying at America's foremost Torah academy, Lakewood yeshiva, the intellectual center of the orthodox Jewish world. where he was recognized as an illui, a genius. It was rumored that Rabbi Aharon Kotler, the renowned head of the yeshiva, was grooming Shlomo to succeed him. But over time Shlomo came to realize the life of the mind, even in a community of brilliant minds, would not satisfy him. He needed something more. What the Rebbe offered him was a path with heart. So Shlomo left Lakewood to learn with the Rebbe. The door opens. An older Hasid, Berel Haskind, sticks his head out. In a soft voice, almost a whisper, he says in Yiddish: Die Rebbe ruft eich, "The Rebbe's calling you." They follow him into the Rebbe's mother's room where he held a small farbrengen (gathering).

Wearing a black silk robe, the Rebbe sits propped up on an upholstered chair at a small table. Standing around the room are several old men with long, white beards, whom the young men recognize as the Rebbe's closest Hasidim. The Rebbe nods, and one of the old men fills three shot glasses on the small table with vodka, passing them to the Rebbe, Shlomo, and Zalman. They make a blessing and everyone says, "L'Hayyim!" making a toast to long life for the Rebbe. The Rebbe looks at Shlomo and Zalman. He takes one more sip of his vodka, and hands the glass to one of the Hasidim, who also takes the glasses from the two young men, and puts the glasses in the dresser. The Rebbe speaks softly in Yiddish. His voice is weak, but his eyes are filled with fire. "The time has come," the Rebbe says, looking first into Shlomo's eyes, then Zalman's. "You have been chosen. God has given you both great gifts. With great gifts come great responsibilities." The Rebbe coughs. Berel Haskind hands him a handkerchief, then a glass of water. After a moment, the Rebbe continues: "I am sending you both as my personal emissaries. I want you to go to college campuses. I want you to find the Jewish students there." The Rebbe takes a sip of water. "What do you want us to say to them?" Shlomo asks.The Rebbe looks at him. "I am sending you to reach out to them, "he says. "God will show you what to say. He will put the words in your mouth." The following week is Hanukkah. Shlomo and Zalman get hold of a car, an old Plymouth, and drive up to Boston to visit their first college campus, Brandeis University, When they get there in the evening, they discover a Hanukkah party in the student union, where students are dancing to 1940s swing music. The young rabbis walk in carrying the stuff they've brought with them: a tape recorder, with Hasidic music, a stack of handouts with Hasidic teachings, and a bag of tefillin. The room goes silent, and all eyes are on them. Shlomo walks over to a table on one side of the room; Zalman walks over to a table on the other side. As curious students wander over, Shlomo begins telling stories. One student says, "This sounds like Hindu mysticism." Shlomo keeps going from story to story as more students gather. Zalman talks aboutKabbalah and the Upanishads at his table, where students are also gathering. Pretty soon, everyone in the room is gathered around these two tables. The stories and discussions continue late into the night.************And the stories, and the discussions, and the songs, and the niggunim, and the Torah continue late into our nights, and days.

Excerpted from Aryae Coopersmith's wonderful book, Holy Beggars.************Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you.************Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev ztz"l used to wish everyone "a kosheren Purim" and a "freiliche Pesach". Of course everyone else usually says the opposite: "a freiliche Purim- a happy Purim" and "a kosheren Pessach-a kosher Pessach". Someone asked Reb Levi Yitzchak to explain why was he reversing the blessings? And so he explained: "everyone knows that on Purim you have to be happy and to be sure we are even obligated to get drunk, but in the midst of the Purim festivities someone might forget that Purim also has to be kosher" - hence he would wish all "a kosheren Purim;"Pesach on the other hand, everyone is so busy cleaning and getting rid of their 'chametz', which is a very strict mitzvah in the Torah, and in the process some may forget the mitzvah of "v'samachtah b'chagechga" - you shall rejoice in your holiday - hence he would wish everyone a "freilichen Pessach". So ...let's bless one another with "A KOSHEREN UN FREILICHENPESACH!"************

A different spin perhaps to accompany our search for chametz.I wish you a kosheren and freilichen Pesach.

A man was walking home late one night when he saw the Mulla Nasrudin searching under a street light on hands and knees for something on the ground. "Mulla, what have you lost?" he asked."The key to my house," Nasrudin said."I'll help you look," the man said.Soon, both men were down on their knees, looking for the key.After a number of minutes, the man asked, "Where exactly did you drop it?"Nasrudin waved his arm back toward the darkness. "Over there, in my house."The first man jumped up. "Then why are you looking for it here?""Because there is more light here than inside my house."

************Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev ztz"l used to wish everyone "a kosheren Purim" and a "freiliche Pesach". Of course everyone else usually says the opposite: "a freiliche Purim- a happy Purim" and "a kosheren Pessach-a kosher Pessach". Someone asked Reb Levi Yitzchak to explain why was he reversing the blessings? And so he explained: "everyone knows that on Purim you have to be happy and to be sure we are even obligated to get drunk, but in the midst of the Purim festivities someone might forget that Purim also has to be kosher" - hence he would wish all "a kosheren Purim;"Pesach on the other hand, everyone is so busy cleaning and getting rid of their 'chametz', which is a very strict mitzvah in the Torah, and in the process some may forget the mitzvah of "v'samachtah b'chagechga" - you shall rejoice in your holiday - hence he would wish everyone a "freilichen Pessach". So ...let's bless one another with "A KOSHEREN UN FREILICHENPESACH!"************Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you.

This is Reneé's telling of I.L. Peretz's story The Magician, a wondrouslymagical tale originally written in Yiddish, of Elijah the Prophet set at Passover time.The black and white drawings were done by Marc Chagall, who created them for Peretz's 1917 publication of De Kuntsenmakher, translated as either the magician or the trickster.﻿I think you will agree that Renée captures the beauty of the language, in this, her faithful adaptation of Peretz's story.

﻿Chag Sameach,R' Mark﻿

A special treat - a different musical setting for Eliyau HaNavi

Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev tz"l used to wish everyone "a kosheren Purim" and a "freiliche Pesach". Of course everyone else usually says the opposite: "a freiliche Purim- a happy Purim" and "a kosheren Pessach-a kosher Pessach". Of course someone asked him to explain why was he reversing the blessings? And so he explained: '"Everyone knows that on Purim you have to be happy and to be sure we are even obligated to get drunk, but in the midst of the Purim festivities someone might forget that Purim also has to be kosher - hence he would wish all 'a kosheren Purim'; Pesach on the other hand, everyone is so busy cleaning and getting rid of their 'chametz', which is a very strict mitzvah in the Torah, and in the process some may forget the mitzvah of 'v'samachtah b'chagechga' - you shall rejoice in your holiday - hence he would wish everyone a "freilichen Pessach". So ...let's bless one another with "A KOSHEREN UN FREILICHEN PESACH!"*********************Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you

With Passover quickly approaching, it seems like a good time for an Elijah story. This is a well known one that I made some minor edits to.Do you have a story or poem that you are planning on telling at your seder? If yes, please share. Once in a long ago faraway place, there lived a man who was old, blind, penniless, and childless. Even though there were so many troubles in his life, he was able to get by with joy in his heart, for he had the love of a sweet and kind wife. They had so little, but they were rich in the love they shared for each other. And whatever little they had, they would gladly share with others. One day the man just needed the time and space to think about things. He never complained, but he needed to go somewhere and reflect on his life. He made his way down to the river bank and began to think of all that had happened to him and how things could have been different. He was lost in thought when suddenly he heard something in the distance. It was the tap, tap, tap think of a cane coming closer and closer. There was the rustling of a long satin cloak. He smelled an aroma that reminded him of scents so sweet, they might have been in the Garden of Eden. Someone came and sat beside him, saying "Do you know who I am?" The old man thought of the sounds and the scent. "Are you... You must be Elijah the prophet!" "Yes, you are right. I am Elijah, and I have been sent here for a very special reason. God has looked here and has seen your suffering. Yet you do not complain; you are still grateful for life, and you and your dear wife share much joy. And, too, you are always ready to share with those less fortunate than yourselves. So I have been sent here to bring you a message. You will be granted a wish! What shall it be? What is it that you want?" The old man did not move. He stayed very still, very quiet, thinking. What wish should he make? What did he really want? Should he wish for his sight? His youth? Money? Dare he wish for a child? Try as he might, he just couldn't make up his mind.Finally Elijah spoke again. "I can see that this is a difficult decision, one not easily made. So why not think about it for a while? Go home and consider what you will do. And then I will meet you here tomorrow, same time and same place. You can tell me then what you will wish." Then the old man heard the rustling of the long satin cloak as Elijah rose to go. He heard the tap, tap, tapping of the cane going off into the distance. But the smell, like all the scents in the Garden of Eden... that scent lingered long after. The old man stay by the river, listening to the water gently flowing by. After a while the old man slowly made his way back home. "Wife! Beloved wife! Come and hear of my adventure!" Call the old man as he entered their house. And he told his wife the whole story. When he got to the end of his tale, he asked, "Please help me. What one wish can I make?" "Do not worry my wonderful husband. All will be for the best. For now, it is time for dinner. Sit down, have some soup and good bread. After dinner, we can rest and tell each other stories. Go to sleep tonight and have some sweet dreams, and tomorrow we will decide what you should say." And that is exactly what the loving couple did. The man had the most beautiful dreams all night long, and in the morning, after breakfast, his wife whispered something in his ear. "Oh, my sweet wife! What a treasure I have in you! That is exactly the right wish. Now, if only I can remember!" Repeating the wish to himself, the old man left his house and made his way slowly back to his place by the river and began to wait. And he waited and waited, listening for the sounds that he had heard the day before. Soon enough, the old man heard it: the tap, tap, tapping of a cane coming closer and closer. There was the rustling of a long satin cloak, and then, finally, there was yhr smell like every scent in all of the Garden of Eden. And Elijah the Prophet came and sat down next to the old man. "Shalom aleichem.”“Aleichem shalom.”"Well now it is time. I can grant only one wish for you. What will that be?" What should he wish for? A child? Money? His sight? His youth? His health? The old man hesitated for a moment. He took a deep breath, and he began:"May I live...see the day.. when my child.. will eat.. from a golden plate!" Elijah threw back his head and began to laugh and laugh. "I can see that you've managed to get all of your wishes into one wish! I'll bet that God is enjoying this just as much as I am. And I am certain that God will see to it that every part of your beautiful wish is granted." For a moment, all was still and silent. Then the old man heard the rustling of the long satin cloak and the tap, tap, tapping of the cane going off into the distance. But the smell, like every scent in the Garden of Eden, that sweet lingered long into the afternoon...And it has been told that the old man and his sweet wife and their lovely child lived a peaceful and joy-filled life together for many, many years.So may it be for us all. Amen.

*********************Story told by Cherie Karo Schwartz in her wonderful book Circle Spinning. From her notes, Pg 28: Adaptation of folktale from the Israel Folktale Archives. English version in Gates to the New City, edited by Howard Schwartz.*********************Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev tz"l used to wish everyone "a kosheren Purim" and a "freiliche Pesach". Of course everyone else usually says the opposite: "a freiliche Purim- a happy Purim" and "a kosheren Pessach-a kosher Pessach". Of course someone asked him to explain why was he reversing the blessings? And so he explained: '"Everyone knows that on Purim you have to be happy and to be sure we are even obligated to get drunk, but in the midst of the Purim festivities someone might forget that Purim also has to be kosher - hence he would wish all 'a kosheren Purim'; Pesach on the other hand, everyone is so busy cleaning and getting rid of their 'chametz', which is a very strict mitzvah in the Torah, and in the process some may forget the mitzvah of 'v'samachtah b'chagechga' - you shall rejoice in your holiday - hence he would wish everyone a "freilichen Pessach". So ...let's bless one another with "A KOSHEREN UN FREILICHEN PESACH!"*********************Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you.

It was a few days before Pesach. Everybody in town, including the Brisker Rav, Rabbi Yosef Dov Seloveitchik, was preparing for the holiday. Not a crumb of chametz could be found anywhere.

That evening, a stranger knocked on the Brisker Rav’s door. “I need to ask the rabbi a question. Am I allowed to use milk instead of wine for the four cups at the Seder?” he asked.

The Brisker Rav looked concerned and replied, "I am the Rav. Tell me sir, are you sick? Are you not able to drink wine?”

“No, I am fine, thank you,” the stranger offered. But then his face fell. The Rav asked again, "Are you sure that you are alright?"

As he finished asking this question, his wife hurried into the room and handed the man 10 rubles.

Wait,” the man stammered. “I didn’t come here for charity. I just came to ask the Rabbi a question.”

“But this is not charity,” she explained, "I couldn’t help overhearing your problem. Just this morning a rich man came and gave us money, and asked us to give it to the person who asked the most insightful question concerning Passover preparations. You would really be doing me a tremendous favor, since I don’t have much time left to give out this gift that was given to me to give. I’m very busy preparing for the holiday. Please help me by accepting it – I’m not sure I’ll have another chance to dispense it,”

Overcome with joy and gratitude, the stranger thanked them both, and left.

As soon as he was gone, the Rav looked at his wife. “I appreciate that you wanted to help, but I don’t understand why you gave that man so much money. Even the best wine doesn’t cost more than 2 rubles– and what was the story you told him about the rich man?”

“ Didn’t you hear what he asked?” replied his wife. “If he was planning to use milk at the Seder, surely he doesn’t have the money to buy meat.,He probably doesn’t have enough money to buy all the other things for the Seder either. Even though he didn’t want charity, I gave him enough money to buy food for his family. And he would not have taken it, except that I told him he would be doing it as a favor to me.”

And with that, Reb Yosef Dov and his wife returned to their Pesach preparations.

Story re-crafted by R' Mark and Renée Brachfeld

************Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev ztz"l used to wish everyone "a kosheren Purim" and a "freiliche Pesach". Of course everyone else usually says the opposite: "a freiliche Purim- a happy Purim" and "a kosheren Pessach-a kosher Pessach". Someone asked Reb Levi Yitzchak to explain why was he reversing the blessings? And so he explained: "everyone knows that on Purim you have to be happy and to be sure we are even obligated to get drunk, but in the midst of the Purim festivities someone might forget that Purim also has to be kosher" - hence he would wish all "a kosheren Purim;"Pesach on the other hand, everyone is so busy cleaning and getting rid of their 'chametz', which is a very strict mitzvah in the Torah, and in the process some may forget the mitzvah of "v'samachtah b'chagechga" - you shall rejoice in your holiday - hence he would wish everyone a "freilichen Pessach". So ...let's bless one another with "A KOSHEREN UN FREILICHENPESACH!"************Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat. Thank you.

One day a poor man showed up at a local banquet. Everyone of means in the community had been invited, but this man, dressed in rags, had not. The banquet was already underway when the poor man entered and made his way into the grand home of one of the local merchants. The servants gazed upon the man with a look of reproof, not believing that someone dressed so shabbily would dare show up at such an event. They hastily escorted him to the farthest corner of the great room in which the banquet was being held. From that vantage point the poor man watched as great trays of food were passed around, none of which were offered to him. And so it was that while everyone else ate and drank, the poor man sat, quietly taking in all of the proceedings.After some time had passed the poor man got up from his seat and exited. He proceeded to borrow a beautiful set of finery - a proper set of clothes - and returned to the banquet, dressed much differently than he had before. The servants welcomed the well dressed man, and shaking his hand vigorously, invited him to take a seat at the head table where the owner of the house sat.

The poor man was immediately offered trays and platters overflowing with delicious food, as well as drink to match. Without hesitation the poor man stood up from his seat, grabbed a handful of food and began stuffing it into his clothes - first a turkey leg into his right pocket, then piles of potatoes into his arm sleeves, and finally apples and pears under his shirt - all the while yelling, “Eat coat, eat!”

The guests were aghast, and watched as the poor man continued on. The master of the house rose from his seat, and in a raised voice shouted, “Excuse me sir, what exactly are you doing?”

The poor man paused, turned to him, and replied, “Well sir, it was clear when I arrived earlier dressed in rags, that I was not welcome here. It was only when I returned dressed as I am now that food and drink were generously offered to me. What is clear is that it is not me that is welcome to this fine banquet, but rather my coat that is welcome. And so, should my coat not eat?”

Story re-crafted by R' Mark Novak & Renée BrachfeldOrigin unknown (Any suggestions as to how the poor man acquired the set of fine clothing?)

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It's Adar, and I just can't resist including this well known, but still funny tale. I dedicate it not only to my Rebbe, but to my daughter Kaziah as well, amember of the Mt. Holyoke varsity equestrian team.Marbim b'simcha everyone!If you've got a good one for Adar, please pass it on below in the comments section.

This is a story about a Jewish guy who buys a horse. The fellow who sells it to him tells him, "This horse is different than other horses – it is trained to start moving when you say “Baruch Hashem” (Thank G!d), and he's trained to stop only when you say “Shma Yisrael” (Hear Oh Israel)The new owner is all excited with his new purchase and gets on the horse and practices. “Baruch Hashem” he says, and the horse breaks into a trot. The man is delighted, and a few moments later calls out “Shma Yisrael”, and sure enough, the horse stops.

"Wow, this is great", the man laughs, "it's a Jewish horse!" And so it was that some days later, while galloping on his horse through the forest and having the time of his life, he sees in the distance that the path ahead ends at a steep cliff. His heart begins to race, when suddenly he realizes that he has forgotten the two-word formula needed to make the horse stop!

"It's a well known expression", he says to himself. "What is it, what is it?" In confusion he shouts, "Shabbat shalom!" The horse keeps going. "Adon Olam!" he cries out. The horse keeps going, faster still to the abyss.In near desparation he wails “B'vak'asha!”. But the horse keeps galloping.Realizing that he is about to die, he does what any Jew would do when confronted with certain death. He screams out, “Shma Yisrael!”. And as trained, the horse stops suddenly – barely a foot from the edge of the cliff. Shaking like a leaf, he pulls out his handkerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Whew" he exhales, "Baruch Hashem!"

************Please consider offering a tax deductible donation to support this project and the work of DC's Jewish Renewal community Minyan Oneg Shabbat.If you would like to be added to the growing list of "Year of Stories" followers, let me know at RebMarko@gmail.com, with "Year of Stories" in the subject line.